


Homecoming

by welzes



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: Alternate Reality, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-13 23:29:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19261339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welzes/pseuds/welzes
Summary: "She has your eyes, my lord," said Rinea.Berkut's eyes flitted between them. "How can you tell?"





	Homecoming

"Would you like to hold her?"

Berkut hesitated. Such indecision would have been frowned down upon in court and on the battlefield, but her lord husband was seldom so impulsive around her—not these days, no longer—and she was more than happy to wait for him to muster up that kernel of confidence to take their child into his arms.

No amount of training and tutoring to become the ideal emperor could have prepared him for this. The small bundle of joy, asleep but stirring upon being changed hands, rested awkwardly in Berkut's clumsy grasp.

"She has your eyes, my lord," said Rinea.

Berkut's eyes flitted between them. "How can you tell?"

"They are as deep and hardy as yours, like the walls of the castle that protect us from the cold. Look."

The babe's eyes flickered open, revealing dark eyes. While they lacked the cold edge of apathy that Berkut's own had fostered over the years, there was still the underlying softness that showed unabashedly on her face. Berkut blinked slowly, and his expression softened when the newborn dozed off once more.

"I see what you mean. But everything else . . . " he trailed off. "Everything else is you."

Rinea's face fell. The eyes were the window to one's soul; however, they were merely a singular part of the body. That she hadn't birthed a child with more resemblance to her lord husband, the regret coiled around her heart like a snake.

With knitted brows, she replied, "Lord Berkut, I—"

"She's perfect."

"Berkut . . . "

She had no words.

Not because there were things she could not say, but because she knew that her lord husband was of the sort to spin no lies. To acknowledge their daughter's likeness to her, then to call that newborn perfect—how could she be so oblivious to the love in his words?

"What troubles you?"

Rinea started. Having sensed her hesitation, Berkut had lifted his head and fixed his gaze on her. Their daughter rested peacefully in his arms, still so clumsily wrapped around the bundle, though she could see that his embrace had tightened with a touch of confidence that was previously absent.

In spite of this joyous image, Rinea struggled to give him anything more than a fretful glance.

"I am humbled by your words," she stammered.

Evidently, it was the wrong thing to say. At Berkut's frown, her heart skipped a beat.

"You needn't be. You are my wife."

She looked away. Too caught up in her concerns of etiquette, she nearly missed the strange silence that followed.

Her lord husband's jaw was set as though he were biting down on unspoken words. This was not the first time she had seen him do this. However, over the course of her pregnancy and its aftermath, he had been more liberal with his words like his old self. It was only during the immediate period following the current king's ascension that he had almost gone mute.

Seeing him in this state now, Rinea feared that he was on the precipice of such an episode again.

A fortnight after formally yielding the throne, Berkut had vanished and Rinea had been beside herself. She was ashamed to admit that she had sought out the executioner first thing, though relieved beyond measure when she had learned that he had not been courting death in his absence. Rushing about in as proper a manner as she could have at the time, she had later found him at a garden tucked deep within the castle grounds, stripped down to his royal garbs with no imposing black armor to cut an intimidating figure of authority.

He had clung to her like a boy clutching at his mother's skirt, whispering in a feverish prayer, "Don't go."

At that moment, even the lowly daughter of a disgraced household could dare to understand a member of royalty. Berkut had been afraid, seemingly paralyzed by the fear of being abandoned by his betrothed.

What transpired afterward, Rinea never told a soul. Berkut would never have been able to live it down. More than that, her heart hurt too much to remember.

He had closed himself off on that day. Many a word came and went unsaid, always marked by the tightness in his jaw and the shifty glances. His eyes, once so open and warm to her, could no longer meet hers—until the day she had told him that she was with child.

His eyes, so vast in their depth and wide from surprise, had finally looked into hers.

That night, Rinea had thanked the late Goddess and God in a sincere prayer: Berkut had finally returned from the war.

Now he was at her beside with their daughter cradled in his arms. He was himself, coming back to his lucid self without the pressure of being emperor to bear down on his shoulders. Rinea allowed herself a small smile.

"Yes."

She was his wife; he, her lord husband. Theirs had been a quiet ceremony, attended by very few, and it had been the second happiest day of her life.

The first, of course, had been the birth of their daughter, to whom she gestured.

"And this is our daughter . . . Our very own child. And I know she will be the happiest girl in all Valentia. You are her father, after all."

Their daughter may not have been born under the most impressive mother, but she would surely grow up to deeply admire her father. She would mature into a fine woman of just as noble a heart, wrapped in his loving presence the while—for while Berkut was sweet, few would ever suspect him of being so sensitive: He would not let them. Yet the part of him that had reached out to Rinea for a dance would always be there to see through their daughter's darkest and brightest days both.

These thoughts widened her smile. From her periphery, she saw Berkut shift.

He was staring at her. The look on his face was pensive, almost distant.

"Berkut? Is something the matter?" asked Rinea.

After a long pause, Berkut said, "No." His lips curled into a small, crooked smile. "Just that . . . seeing that smile upon your face is something I have always desired. And here you are."

She blinked, her lips parting in surprise. All this time, had she not been smiling enough? For all that she loved him, had she been grossly remiss as to not offer something so small to Berkut in the years they'd been together?

Seeming to read her thoughts, Berkut lowered his head. The motion stopped Rinea's thoughts in their tracks. Berkut's attention had returned to the sleeping babe.

"To achieve such a dream," he started, "a child had not crossed my mind. My sights were on Valentia, and Valentia only; I had thought that if I were to give you this, then you would . . . "

"Would . . . ?"

This was far more than Berkut had ever said about his previous ambitions since Alm's coronation. As he trailed off, Rinea was afraid that he would withdraw into himself again if she did not listen.

"I wanted to be the one to make you smile. To give you a place above the rest of Valentia, so that none might question your worth and all may see your resplendence. It was the least you deserved." A mournful look settled on his face as he brought a finger up to brush against their daughter's cheek. "But it was never within my power to make that happen."

If not for the overwhelming emotions that flooded her heart then, Rinea could have wept. Not for what could have been, but for the air of defeat that Berkut wore around him like a cloak while he berated himself, oblivious to all that he had always done in her favor.

She could not have asked for more. She had no desire to.

That he would have been attuned to her insecurities insofar that he'd have gone so far to provide her with the security to stand proudly beside him, she had no words. She did not think she would ever have them.

Closing her eyes, she exhaled quietly. Her shoulders sagged and lifted as she took in a cleansing breath to gather her confidence. She opened her eyes, then reached out to place a soft hand over Berkut's calloused one. Her other hand reached for his face.

Their eyes met.

"Rinea?"

"Your being here with our daughter is more than anything I could have ever asked for. The power that you sought to make a smile happen . . . you have always had it within you." Her heart swelled with adoration for the man who would do anything for her, and she smiled warmly. "So please, Berkut. Let us move on, so we might build a happy future full of smiles for the three of us."

"Rinea . . . "

Truly, in this world, there was none she loved more than the two people before her. Now, more than ever, she knew the same held true for her dearest husband—and that this was enough for them.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Marianne's portrait from Three Houses/Four Seasons, because the resemblances in appearance and background are way too uncanny. And I just really wanted Berkut and Rinea to be happy with a family of their own.


End file.
